


Facing the Sun

by ellebeedarling



Series: After All This Time [13]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Dealing With Loss, Death of a loved one, M/M, grief and mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-05 00:54:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15852921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellebeedarling/pseuds/ellebeedarling
Summary: Kaidan faces his first birthday after the death of his father.





	Facing the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> This little bitty thing is very personal to me. It is shamelessly self-indulgent, self-insertive. 
> 
> Tomorrow is my birthday, and my father died two weeks ago. So everything that Kaidan is feeling is what I'm feeling right now, too. 
> 
> It is a sad fic, but for me, it ends on a hopeful note.

The sun was bright despite the chill in the air. A brisk wind blew off the Pacific, slapping him in the face with its cold fingers, but Kaidan ignored it. 

 

It was his birthday today. The first one since his dad had passed away. 

 

Through the years there had been many times that he’d been separated from his family on his birthday. When he was a kid, his dad had deployments or business trips at inconvenient times. After Kaidan enlisted, his own assignments often kept him away from his parents for months at a time. And there was the awful year he’d spent at BAaT. 

 

But his dad always did the best he could to contact him on his special day. The year at BAaT having been the only exception, there was always a message - vid or written - waiting in his inbox when he woke up on his birthday morning. 

 

Today there would be no message. His dad wouldn’t be calling to wish him a happy day. There would be no jokes from Tom Alenko about how Kaidan was getting old, ribbing him about his salt and pepper hair or the creak in his joints from leftover war injuries. He wouldn’t get to hear his dad’s deep, soothing voice telling him how much he loved Kaidan, how proud he was of the man Kaidan had become, of the family he’d made. 

 

The bitter wind nearly froze Kaidan’s tears to his cheeks, but he didn’t care. He wondered, not for the first time, about the grim reality of life. The inevitability of having to one day say goodbye to those that you loved. Time and Fate were cruel mistresses that no one could escape. 

 

Looking back on the last few years, Kaidan could see that his father had never truly come home from the Reaper War. He’d tried to be happy, and there were definitely moments where his dad had been genuinely joyful: at Kaidan’s wedding to John via vidcom from Earth, the birth of Ashley, the official adoption of Brinley. But as the years had gone by, and Tom’s body never fully recovered from his injuries, he’d sunk into himself, pulling away from the ones who loved him most. 

 

Despite his training and his own experiences with PTSD - both his and John’s - Kaidan hadn’t seen it. He’d missed the signs pointing toward the fact that his father was lost to memories, unable to pull himself out of the abyss of darkness. 

 

Kaidan was furious with himself. He’d seen it countless times over the years. Soldiers under his command who needed a gentle push in order to take the steps necessary to heal. Hell, nearly every living being in the galaxy was suffering from at least a mild case of PTSD. Only those born after the chaos had ended were free from the nightmares that had plagued him and John and others like them for the last five years. 

 

But somehow he’d overlooked the symptoms in his own damned father. 

 

He’d known the man was struggling to come to terms with the fact that he’d never be independent again, never be able to walk without assistance again. Maybe he’d just assumed that his dad would be able to cope. He’d always seemed so strong. He’d always been Kaidan’s hero. His father had been the one to pull Kaidan back from the cliff’s edge after John went down with the  _ Normandy _ . His dad had been the one to help him put the pieces back together after BAaT. Tom Alenko had been there for his son through every bump, bruise, and heartache.

 

And Kaidan had failed him. 

 

His knees gave out, and he dropped to the deck of their waterfront home, burying his face in his hands as deep cries of agony left his lungs. Since Tom’s death a month ago, Kaidan had done well. He’d been strong for his mom, for his children, who would miss their grandfather. He’d had his private moments of grief, shared only with John in the quiet hours of the night, but he’d largely kept it together for his family. Now the sorrow crashed over him like a wave, rolling him under the current and battering his heart against a jagged shore. 

 

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed on the ground, lost to his own grief, when a pair of strong arms wrapped around him, lifting him off the deck. Wordlessly, John turned Kaidan to face him, bundling him up in a warm embrace that signified life and hope. Pressing his face against John’s neck, Kaidan wept some more, grateful for his husband’s strength when he had none left for himself. 

 

John was silent, recognizing his husband’s need to let go. He offered nothing more than loving arms and the occasional soft kiss pressed into unruly black hair. 

 

In the weeks to come, John would remind him that none of this was Kaidan’s fault, that they’d done the best they could for a man who’d decided to give up on living. And he’d suggest therapy to deal with his survivors guilt. For now, John stayed silent and held onto him as though Kaidan might drown if he let go. 

 

Kaidan thought he just might. 

 

Later, they trundled the kids into the car and went to the orchard. His mom had made his favorite birthday meal, and Kaidan figured this day was probably just as hard for her as it was for him. The mood was more subdued than birthdays of the past, but it warmed the frigid places in his heart, reminded him that there was still life, still things to be thankful for. He opened presents: homemade, messily-wrapped things from the girls, a travel itinerary for a weekend getaway in a couple weeks from John, as well as a few little items he’d been wanting or needing. 

 

His mother’s gift was last.

 

The Alliance flag that had been draped over his father coffin. 

 

Kaidan had spent a weekend in his dad’s shop, not long ago, building a frame to contain the keepsake. Fresh tears sprang to Kaidan’s eyes as he told his mother he couldn’t possibly accept it. Kate Alenko insisted, in that way that mothers have that makes them impossible to refuse. As sad as it made Kaidan to look at the flag, it also felt like he held a piece of his father in his hands. There was pride there, too, for the man who’d fought so bravely to defend all of mankind from the greatest threat they’d ever known. 

 

At home he placed the flag on the mantle above the fireplace. He wasn’t sure he wanted it to stay there forever, but for now, it seemed fitting. John stood with him in quiet support and contemplation. Kaidan knew that it would never cease to amaze him just how well his husband could sense what he needed and when. 

 

He ran his fingers over the wooden frame and whispered, “Goodnight, Dad,” before turning into John’s arms once more. The tears came again, but they were fewer. John tilted his chin up to lay a gentle kiss against his lips before wrapping an arm around his waist and leading him toward the stairs. 

 

As he lay in the darkness, head resting over the soothing rhythm of John’s heart, he couldn’t help but feel grateful. For his father, who’d loved him unconditionally and had always supported him in any way he could. For a loving mother who’d nurtured him and shown him how to be compassionate. For a devoted husband who was always there for him, lending his strength whenever Kaidan needed it. For his children who reminded him that life would go on, that babies would be born, and parents would die, but the sun would continue to rise and fall just the same as it always had. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
